


and baby (?) makes three

by sex_drugs_moriarty



Category: The Avengers (Marvel Movies)
Genre: Accidental Baby Acquisition, Babies, F/M, M/M, One Shot, Science Boyfriends, small unimportant interrupted sex scene
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-04-12
Updated: 2014-04-12
Packaged: 2018-01-19 01:49:49
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,544
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1450912
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/sex_drugs_moriarty/pseuds/sex_drugs_moriarty
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>"This is not what I was expecting,” says Bruce. He rubs a hand across his forehead. </p><p>“I don’t think anyone expects a giant green baby at any point in their lives,” Tony responds.</p><p>“Right,” says Bruce. “Absolutely right.” </p><p>Prompt fill for the Fic Exchange over at AvengerKink.</p>
            </blockquote>





	and baby (?) makes three

**Author's Note:**

> Original Prompt: 
> 
> During his hiding (after Harlem and Blonsky debacle), Bruce spends some time as Hulk wandering around the Amazon/African wilderness and meets the girl of Hulk's dreams (Alien in hiding? Some version of Goddess?). They spend a lot of time together, before Hulk is forced to run once again.
> 
> Then Loki-New York thing happens and Bruce moves in with Tony and they begin a relationship. And just when they think it can't get any better (or worse), someone dumps a giant green baby at the Stark Towers.
> 
> (dreams are in italic)

 

 

“This is not what I was expecting,” says Bruce. He rubs a hand across his forehead.

 

“I don’t think anyone expects a giant green baby at any point in their lives,” Tony responds.

 

“Right,” says Bruce. “Absolutely right.”

 

There’s a cough from the doorway, and Steve walks in. He stops, scans the room and his eyes land on the...well, the baby.

 

“Is that a-” he says, and then starts to back out the way he came. “I don’t want to know,” Steve says firmly, shutting his eyes and leaving. “I just don’t want to know.”

 

“Huh,” says Tony, looping an arm over Bruce’s shoulders. “Think of it this way babe- we’re going to be parents!”

 

Bruce slaps a hand against his face.

 

\----------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------

 

A few days later, he awakens to loud growls and the annoying high squealing that makes up the majority of children’s programming. He rolls out of bed, feels the Hulk shift restlessly inside him. As he steps into the living room, the source of the noises is revealed. Tony rests on his knees, babbling nonsense to a growling toddler with hair the color of a spring pea.

 

“goooooodmorning, Brucie, love of my life, giant of my heart...”

 

Bruce waves a hand in Tony’s direction, shuffling off to the kitchen stovetop and blurrily rummaging through the cabinets for his tea. It’s imported, and the pretty much the only luxury item he’ll let Tony buy for him without complaint. He sets the kettle on to boil, and watches Tony wave his hands in tune with his talking, as the little boy- well, not so much little in size- next to him watches him intently.

He ponders what his younger self would think; the him before the Hulk had never thought much of children beyond the odd daydream, but after....after, it was his only solace.  He and Betty would have their perfect lives together, white picket fence and all. It was the stuff that kept him though the days on the run; though the nightmares with General Ross and the battle with Loki. The thought of her, resting at his side each night, and a little boy or girl with her eyes and his nose asleep in the next room.

 

He wonders what she’d think of him now, happily cohabitating with the man of his scientific wet dreams and now....raising a child together.

 

The kettle whistles high and sharp, pulling him out of his thoughts. He snaps the heat off quickly; the shrill noise aggravates both he and the Hulk, who grunts tersely at the noise. He watches the steam dissipate as he pours the water over the tea leaves, and rests his hand against the near burning heat of his cup. He joins Tony and the baby again, the latter of whom turns bright eyes to him.

 

Tony plucks the baby up, settling him on Bruce’s lap. Green eyes stare at him attentively, tiny jade lips working at his fist. It would be terribly easy to love him, Bruce thinks.

 

“I suppose he needs a name,” Bruce says, holding out a finger for peridot tinged gums to chew on.

  
“Can we-” starts Tony.  “We’re not naming him Anthony,” Bruce says. Over time, he’d learned that with Tony it was better to cut ideas off before they sprouted; once Tony got going he rarely ever stopped.

 

“But-”

 

“No, Tony.”

 

“But not eve-”

 

“No.”

\----------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------

 

“What in the _hell_ is that,” shouts Bucky, before Steve neatly slips a hand over his mouth and drags him away.

 

“It- He’s a baby,” says Bruce, mildly.

 

“A baby,” Natasha repeats, dryly. She looks suspicious; unnerved. He’s not sure she’s forgiven him for the helicarrier yet, no matter how approachable she looks. “How?”

 

“I don’t know,” says Bruce. “I honestly don’t know.”

 

\----------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------

 

“A child!” shouts Thor. “I wish you many congratulations!”

 

“er, thank you, Thor,” Bruce replies, feeling a bit awkward in the face of Thor’s excitement.

 

The baby- they still haven’t decided on a name- climbs up Thor’s body with determination, scaling his legs and waist before squirming around to take a few interested tugs at Mjolnir. Thor laughs and proclaims that the baby will surely be a great warrior someday; for now, Bruce just hopes he’ll learn to eat his food without making projectiles out of it first.

 

\----------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------

 

Bruce has been having the strangest dreams since the baby appeared, but never one so strange as this.

_The Hulk rested on the damp, sloppy ground, chest heaving in exhaustion. The once verdant jungle surrounding him was now flat and broken, with flowers and trees crushed into the muddy earth beneath his feet. He sat down amongst the broken stems and trampled ground, one large hand gripping angrily at the thick, waxy strands of his hair and kneading at the wide forest colored forehead underneath. He snarled in frustration; he was tired of running, tired of being hungry. How dare Banner make him flee, make them hide like weaklings. He hated this place, hated Banner, hated Ross. He smashed the tree closest to him, ripping it from the ground by it’s roots and snapping it apart in disgust. A large boulder lay near him, and  he grabbed it, hefting it in his grip. He aimed at another tree nearby, ready to throw, when a voice rasped silkily in his ear._

_“I wish you wouldn’t do that,” said the voice. “You’re hurting me.”_

_“Who,” grunted Hulk. “Who there.”_

_A woman slipped out from among the trees. She was inhumanly tall and impressively statuesque, her golden skin adorned with jewels and flowers alike. The plants were her only clothes, woven together, and she seemed to be in motion even as she stood still before Hulk. Her hair hung at her waist, curled and wild like the foliage of the nearby trees, and her eyes were a fiery gold, reminiscent of sunshine. In her left hand she held a spear, the tip a jagged point, and in her right, a vibrant thatch of orchids._

_The Hulk did not speak many words, but knew she was beautiful. He managed to grind out a low “Pretty.” and she laughed at him, kindly, in a way that did not make him want to smash her to bits._

_“I am Laís,” she said. “And this is my forest. These are my children,” she said. “ Every tree, every flower, every chatting bird and monkey. If you destroy them, you also destroy me.”_

_“Sorry,” said Hulk, shifting awkwardly._

_The woman- Laís. She made his skin itch; not like Betty, for whom his only thought was to love and protect, but in a different way, one that made his insides match the heat the sun bore on his skin._

_“You need not apologise,” she responded. “You are strong; you are a warrior. You have seen your mistake. I think you will be a good match for me.”_

 

\----------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------

 

“I came to bed, like you asked,” says Tony, cozying up behind Bruce and nuzzling his neck.

 

“And only three hours behind schedule,” Bruce replied, feeling the scratch of Tony’s goatee against his skin.

 

“Let me make it up to you,” says Tony, sucking gently behind his ear. His voice is low and quiet in the dark of their room, and Bruce can’t help but give a little shiver as strong hands knead gently at his sides. He lets Tony grope him for a few minutes, relaxing into his hands and enjoying the motions. He stretches out, leaning into it, and behind him, Tony laughs. “You’re just like a cat,” he says. “All you want is to be petted.”

 

Bruce laughs under his breath, slides back a bit and turns around, looping an arm over Tony’s shoulder to grip at his back. He lets Tony kiss him wet and deep, lets him shove his hands past his waistband and grasp two handfuls of his ass. Tony pulls him closer to rub their cocks together through the thinness of their sleep pants, and he sighs into Tony’s mouth, curling a leg over his as they rock together. It feels good, better than good, and he reaches down to slide their pants out of the way.

 

“Can you come like this?” Tony whispers, breath coming in little pants.

 

“P-probably,” he responds, sounding as breathless as he feels. He feels ridiculous, a grown man about to come from humping against his..boyfriend like a teenage boy in the back of a car with his prom date.  He groans a little and curls into Tony, rutting a bit faster, his back arching in pleasure. He’s close, really close, and then....

 

And then the baby cries.

 

\----------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------

 

_“Match,” grunts Hulk, standing up. “What match.”_

_Laís smiles at him, sensual and wicked. She steps towards him, laying down her spear and scattering the orchids around her feet as she goes. Their scent fills the air, sweet and clean._

_“You use few words,” she says. “But your mind is sharp.”_

_She rests her hands against Hulk’s face, strokes fingers through his hair.  Hulk’s eyes slip shut against her palm, and she chuckles lowly._

_“My poor warrior, so far from home,” she croons. “I will give you food; I will give you rest.” She tugs at his shoulders and he kneels, and she presses his heavy face against her breast. He lets her do as she will, calm under her hands. They stand together for long moments, her hands still carding through his hair._

_“I will be your food, I will be your rest. And in return, you shall give me my heir.”_

_Hulk grunts at her, eyes still shut. “Ok,” he grinds out. “Ok.”_

_She tilts him back among the orchids._

 

\----------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------

 

“Oh my god,” says Bruce. “Oh my god.”

 

\----------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------

 

“Laís,” says Bruce, tiredly. He hasn’t been sleeping recently, so caught up between the baby and the memories of Hulk. “Her name is Laís.”

 

“Never heard of her,” says Tony.

 

“I think she was some sort of goddess,” says Bruce. “Hulk...liked her. A lot.”

 

“We should talk to Thor.”

 

\---------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------

 

“Ah, Laís!” says Thor. “A Guardian of the Rainforest.”

 

“Guardian of the R-of the Rainforest,” says Tony, disbelieving.

 

“Yes,” says Thor. “A beauty, but vicious when provoked. Truly you must be a great warrior, Dr.Banner, if she has chosen you.”

 

Bruce coughs awkwardly. “She didn’t chose me...she chose the Hulk,” he says.

 

Thor tilts his head in confusion. “Are the two not the same?”

Bruce doesn’t have an answer.

 

\------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------

 

“He couldreally use a name,” says Steve, letting the baby play with his fingers. His tiny forest colored hands grip Steve’s tightly as he giggles, and Bruce catches himself before he can let out a sappy, fond smile.

 

“We can’t just keep calling him the baby.”

 

“I don’t want to get to attached, you know, for when his mother comes back,” says Bruce. It sounds false to his own ears.

 

“If,” says Tony, entering the room. “If she comes back.”

 

“Tony-”

 

“Don’t Tony me,” he says. “Bruce, for all intents and purposes he is your son.”

 

“He’s not,” Bruce responds. “He’s....He’s the Hulk’s.”

 

“The Hulk is you,” says Tony.

 

“Don’t,” says Bruce. “Don’t. We’re not having this conversation.”

 

Steve stands silently and leaves, the baby quiet in his arms.

 

“Bruce,” says Tony.

 

“Don’t!” he says again, and he knows his eyes flash green.

 

“Bruce,” and his voice is gentler.

 

“I want to have be with you,” he says, and all Bruce can think is no no no, not like this.

 

“I want to have a family with you,” he says, softly. “After Pepper-”

 

“I can’t,” says Bruce, cutting him off. “I just..I just can’t.”

 

He runs.

 

\----------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------

 

He sleeps badly that night, dreams full of golden eyes.

 

\----------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------

_“You are unhappy with my gift,” says Laís._

_“Your gift,” says Bruce, and then gasps. “I’m...me.”_

_“You have always been,” she responds, sounding a bit annoyed. “The Hulk is you and you are the Hulk; two destinies forever intertwined. You see the two of you as the man and the monster; the beauty and his beast. Yet I see you differently. He is a result of your baser nature, yet he is capable of kindness, of thought, of compassion. Does this not make the two of you the same?”_

_“I- I don’t know,” says Bruce._

_“You don’t know because you don’t wish to know,” she says, bitterly. “ I gave you one of my children, my precious creations. A token of my favor at no cost to you. And yet you wallow.”_

_“I’m sorry,” he says, feeling shame creep upon him, hot and heavy._

__

_Her expression softens. “I will forgive you- but only if you promise to take care of what you are given.”_

_He feels the urge to shuffle his feet in the dirt, but he suppresses it. “I-yes. I will.”_

_She smiles, warmly, and the feeling it evokes in him reminds him of sunshine, of the warmth of Tony’s eyes._

“Thank you,” he says, and then he wakes up.

 

\----------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------

 

He shuffles out of bed, passing Tony sprawled out and drooling on the couch. He’s overcome with a sudden rush of a affection for this man, who so eagerly wormed his way into Bruce’s life, and eventually, his heart. He runs a gentle hand over Tony’s face, smoothes down the rough salt and pepper of his goatee. Tony grunts, leaning into his palm and rolling blurry brown eyes up to gaze at him.

 

“Hi,” he says, and Bruce gives him a small, private grin. “Hi.”

 

“Come to bed,” he says, a request and an apology rolled into one.

 

Tony rolls inelegantly off of the couch and stands, swinging an arm around his shoulders. He mouths a kiss against his neck and whispers “I’m sorry for pushing” wet and warm against his collarbone. Bruce shakes his head; he has nothing to be sorry for.

 

“Go to bed,” he says, instead. “I’ll be there in a minute.”

 

Tony stumbles off, sleep drunk and wobbling, and Bruce walks down the low lit hallway to the baby’s room.

 

He’s looks like he’s sleeping, but when Bruce approaches the crib his eyes open, wide and questioning. He yawns and stretches out small arms to Bruce, clinging to his shirt as he lifts him. He’s rather big for a toddler, but he curls up small in Bruce’s arms, warm, drooly and smelling sweet.

 

Bruce smiles in the darkness.

 

\----------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------

He settles the baby neatly in the bed next to Tony and then crawls in himself, curling around the tiny body. Tony blinks at him, eyes liquid in the dark, and grins.

 

\----------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------

 

“For the last time, we are **not** naming him Anthony.”

 

“But _whyyyy_ ,” says Tony.

 

“Because I’m his father and I say so,” says Bruce, dryly.

 

“I’m his dad too, you know,” Tony responds, voice full of false indignation.

 

“I suppose you are,” says Bruce. “I suppose you are.”

 

\----------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------

 

“We could name him Nick, to piss Fury off..”

 

“Tony...”

 

The baby shrieks. “See, he likes it!”

 

Tony presses his face to the baby’s and pouts, looking ridiculous.

  
“Fine,” says Bruce.

 

“Really? I mean because that was mostly a joke but-”

 

“Do you want me to change my mind?”

 

“Nope, nope, all good here.”

 

“NIcholas Stark,” says Tony, examining the baby. “It’s a good fit."

 

“Hey, can I make him a suit?”

 

“TONY.”

 

“I was kidding, god!”

 

 

**Author's Note:**

> I hope I've done the prompt (some) justice c: 
> 
> It was surprisingly less crack-like than I meant to make it but I hope that's okay. 
> 
> thanks for reading!


End file.
